


On Healing a Mulberry Tree

by AuriferousEyes



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angry Zuko (Avatar), Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Azula (Avatar), Child Zuko (Avatar), Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Zuko (Avatar) is an Idiot, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko is an asshole, Zuko's Scar (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriferousEyes/pseuds/AuriferousEyes
Summary: “I need to do this Zuko. Please. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it alone. That’s fine. I’ve been by myself for years now. I don’t need your help.” You turned to leave and he reached to grab you again. You pulled your hand away before he could.“Y/n stop."  His tone, it sent shivers down your spine. Spirits. He sounded like Ozai.You kept walking, your eyes locked onto the door."As your prince, I command you to STOP.” He was almost shouting now, his voice thick with emotion. Desperation. You reached the doorway to the hall and put your hand on it, pausing for a moment.That was the first command he had ever given you.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 136
Collections: All-time ATLA Favourites





	On Healing a Mulberry Tree

For most of your life, you didn’t realise he was a prince. 

The last thing on your mind, as you flew together through the palace halls, tumbled through the garden bushes, and hid under Ursa’s bed, was how he was different from you. He was simply another child, as you were a child. And so you wreathed him in friendship and he called you his own. 

He fought you like the other children from the servant’s quarter did. Bickering over who’d get the larger wooden sword, over whether or not your father poured him a larger cup of tea. You were taller than him, and would joyfully laud it over the boy, much to his chagrin. But any fight you had would be resolved within moments. You didn’t have enough time to be mad at each other, there were adventures to pretend. 

He also loved you in a way the other children didn’t. 

The first time you broke a bone, it was at the base of a mulberry tree. You had fallen from a branch, and the crack of your wrist under your body was almost as loud as Zuko’s yell. The pulp of the berries smeared on your hand made you think of flesh, and you had slipped into unconsciousness by the time the young boy had made his way to your side. 

He had insisted on piggybacking you to the Royal Infirmary, placing you carefully upon a bed and then demanding the Royal Physicians fix you. He didn’t leave until they had reluctantly set your arm, confused as to why they were treating the daughter of the cook. He had remained stitched to your side, the stain of mulberries colouring his cheek a soft red. Too intent on you to clean it off.

Ursa had to pull him away by the collar when he insisted he wanted to help you eat dinner that night. To pour your drink, to hold your chopsticks if needed. The urgency in Ursa’s voice as she scolded him made you start. Hadn’t you served him before? You had even helped hand feed Azula when she was younger.

That was the first time you realised that maybe you weren’t cut from the same cloth. Perhaps he was silk and you were cotton. But he chose you, he chose you relentlessly. 

Ursa had loved how you two played. She treated you like a child, as though you were unlike her own in respect and kindness. Her soft spot for you was as big as her heart, and you never wondered if it was out of pity for your motherless upbringing, or pure love. It was love, you insisted to yourself. It had to be. 

But there were boundaries she couldn’t let you cross, like letting the young boy serve you. The figure of the Prince Ozai always seemed to lurk behind her, off in the distance but his ire close by. It cast a shadow on her beautiful face. You could see her pale whenever he entered the room, this woman of your parents’ village turning to a tragic statue when her husband gazed at her. You were glad you were nothing to the Prince. 

But right now, Ursa was a ray of warmth. She held Zuko in her lap as he grasped a large scroll. You sat at her feet, a comb in your hand and the princess’ hair under your touch. Ursa’s finger traced over the page as Zuko intoned the story. You were proud to hear that he was halting less. Guess that fancy school had nothing on good ol’ fashion practicing in the storage room with books nicked from the library. 

The rain was a melodic backing to the cozy scene. You were always excited to see the clouds close in, knowing that soon you would be called in front of the warm fire in her bed chamber. Your father would prepare lǎopó bǐng, which had been your mother’s favourite pastry. It was Ursa’s as well. She would always hand the first one to you, and wouldn’t take a bite till after you had. 

Azula let out a hiss as the comb caught a knot in her hair. You paused, letting her turn to glare at you. 

“I’m sorry, Azula.” You whispered and she pouted, turning back. Her hair was always a mess when she’d return from these new training sessions with her father. And she would be prickly, quick to snap. Most often at you, who felt less and less like her friend. 

“Father says you should be addressing me as Princess.” She said, her snide tone sounding foreign to you. Ursa’s eyes snapped towards her. 

You bit your lower lip, looking up at her mother before nodding.

“Yes, Princess. Of course." 

You could tell Azula was smiling triumphantly. Ursa was leaning forward now, Zuko still caught up in his reading. 

"And you should be calling Zuko prince. Father says it’s inappropriate for the servants to be so familiar, that we shouldn’t be fraternizing like yo-" 

"Your father says many things, love.” Ursa cut her off, and the expression on her face was one you had never seen before. Her nails dug into the heavy sea of her kimono, twisting the fabric. Zuko had stopped now, and his eyes darted to each face, confused. 

“What did Azula just say? That y/n has to call me Prince?” The look of disgust was evident. “I don’t like that. Don’t do that, okay?” You breathed a sigh of relief as he playfully kicked your shoulder before jumping from Ursa’s lap. 

Ursa touched his shoulder before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Azula’s head. The girl leaned against her kiss and you stared in open hunger. How easy it was to be loved by a mother.

But that was another difference between you and the gold eyed siblings. 

Ursa moved to her bookshelf across the room, leaving Azula staring after her in contemplation. Zuko flicked one of your braids and you looked up at him. He gave you an easy smile. 

“Come on, wanna watch me get to the top of that mulberry tree? We didn’t get to see if the berries at the top are sweeter. They’ll start to rot soon. Azula can come too.”

The Azula you knew would jump at the chance to spend more time with her brother, to be included in on his games. But Ozai didn’t seem to like that Azula, so she was slowly fading away.

There seemed to be a crack of energy as Princess’ eyes met her brother’s. “I’ll beat you up there.” She said, a simple statement. No blustering, no pomp. Just pure confidence. You were jealous of it. 

“No you won’t.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed. Their rivalry seemed to be on edge, growing sharper with each passing day. It didn’t help that their parents seemed to pick sides, preening their chosen champions. 

Sometimes you were happy it was just your father and you. 

Sometimes. 

You sighed, pulling Azula’s hair into a bun. She always insisted on it, turning her nose to the more elaborate hairstyles favoured by her friends and other girls her age. After you fixed it in place, she stood up. No thank you, no grateful smile. 

“I’m going to go sit in on court. Fathe-” She shut her mouth quickly, casting a weary eye to Ursa. She had made her way back, another scroll in her hand. Azula made her exit before her mother could say more. 

“Oh, are you leaving now? You be careful with her Zuko, just because y/n’s cast is off doesn’t mean you can get too wild.” Ursa’s hand rested on the top of your head. “Do you know what delight your father’s cooked up?” She asked, adjusting a stray braid. You beamed with pleasure. 

“The Fire Lord requested himono, but father says he managed to ahold of a hare and bamboo shoots as well.” Zuko’s eyes lit up and he grabbed your hand. 

“Oh I love that!” He exclaimed and Ursa laughed, moving her hand to stroke the boy’s cheek. 

“I do too, he makes it almost as well as my mother did. I’m so glad to have a cook from my village.” Her voice was heavy with sentiment as you and Zuko exchanged glances. Ursa was careful never to mention her home. You had known that your parents had hailed from the same small village, but were forbidden to speak of it. You had learned, from a young age, that Ozai resented Ursa’s ties to her past. And your family had stood like a rope under his nose for years. Though your father had never slipped “danger” into his warnings, you could feel it.

Zuko grabbed your hand, ensuring it was the good one, and pulled you through the palace halls to the garden. Soon he was lost in the canopy of emerald leaves, and you sat impatiently at the bottom. You caught glimpses of him, a horned shoe. A pale hand. The occasional berry that would fall to the dirt. He’d call down to you, his voice wafting in the breeze. But it would sound so far away and so out of reach. With a pang, you realised you were missing him. 

That was silly of you, you decided. He was just feet away. But you thought back to Azula’s insistence on his title and felt the gap was more than just physical. 

Before you could dwell on the ache, Zuko dropped from the branch. He landed nimbly on his feet. You leaned against the tree trunk as he held his hand out. 

“Aw, you squished them.” You grumbled and he rolled his eyes. 

“They’re still good. Here,” he looked around quickly to ensure the guards were still engaged in conversation, and that you were otherwise alone. He took a mostly intact berry and stepped close to you, pressing it to your lips. You reared back in confusion, your heart racing. You hit your head on the bark of the tree and rubbed the sore spot, staring at him with reproach. He sighed impatiently. 

“Just open up. Let me feed you." 

"Zuko, your mother sai-,” he shook his head firmly. 

“I know what she said. And I know what Azula said and what my father says. But I don’t care. So please.” His eyes bore into yours, both a challenge and an entreatment. 

You parted your lips and his face broke into a smile. The berry was sweet, and you enjoyed the feeling of it bursting under the press of your teeth. Zuko watched you eat with a tender smile on his face. 

You snatched a berry from his palm and offered it to him. He ate it solemnly, and you giggled. Your heart felt calmed as he chewed. You should have known better than to be scared. This was Zuko, your friend. 

“They do taste sweeter. Closer to the top. Maybe because they get more sun.” You murmured, leaning your head back to stare at the slim branches. The sunlight dappled your face, warming your lips and patches of skin. The sensation made you smile, and when you looked back to Zuko, he was staring at you. He flushed immediately and turned his head. 

He let the remainder of the berries drop to the ground as he grasped your hand. His skin was warm, and sticky with purple juice. “Let’s go get the swords.” He met your gaze, giving you a half smile. “I’ll let you have the big one." 

You let out a gasp, squeezing his hand. "Really? Okay!" 

With a tug you were off again, ready to throw yourself into a world of pretend that was more pervasive than you had realised. 

It had broken, bit by bit as you got older. Like water crashing against cliff, turning sturdy stone to sand. 

He had more and more responsibilities. Ones that he leaned into desperately, aching to prove his worth to the Fire Lord and his father. But Ozai was stoic and unmoving, and Azulon even more so. 

Though, he never was too busy for you, always ensuring he would find you in his sister’s chambers. Steal you when she was busy to help him with another book, or to "serve him tea.” You’d always take turns pouring the hot liquid. Sometimes Ursa would join you, dismissing her own attendants and serve the both of you. 

The Princess never would accept the invitation. 

She had seen the softness in Zuko’s heart for you, and made you pay for it. You don’t think she disliked you, not really. You knew this was a facade, a shaping of her father’s hands. But it hurt, nonetheless. She pretended she didn’t care for you, adopting the view Ozai did of the palace servants. Invisible, until they did wrong. 

And to her, you could do no right. 

But you bore the punishments and insults silently. The last thing you wanted was to stress Zuko or Ursa. You knew she wanted to get to them, and that you were simply an easy path there. 

She came across you in his study, leaned over the same scroll. Zuko was pointing at a character, and you shook your head at how he said it. You took his hand, stroking his finger across the ink to show him the image it made. 

“My my, seems like the Prince needs more attention from my attendant than I do.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you stepped away from Zuko’s side. You bowed deeply, the same depth you’d give to Ozai. 

“I’m sorry, Princess. I had assumed you would be with your friends, Ty Lee-" 

"You will refer to my friends with honour, servant. But very well, you didn’t realise. To make up the time you spent slacking, you may spend dinner with me. You can dine after I’ve fallen asleep. Or maybe when I wake. ” Her tone was sharp, a malicious smile curling her lips. Her eyes flicked to Zuko’s face. 

“Azula, don’t be like that. Y/n was helping me.” Zuko jumped to your defense immediately, his brow furrowed. 

“And now she’ll help me. Come here, my bun feels loose. You did a terrible job this morning. I need it redone." 

With a final look to Zuko you followed the princess. He stared at you as you left, his hands curling into fist on the scroll. 

That night she jostled you as you adjusted the logs under her bath. 

You jumped away, cradling the singed skin and holding back curses. The back of your hand had pressed into a burning log. When you looked at her, the girl who once used to hold your hand because it was softer than Zuko’s, she looked stricken. She stared in horror, her mouth open to apologise. 

The Azula you knew would have apologised. But the Princess closed her jaw, turning her back to you. 

You wordlessly helped her bathe, then to bed. 

You rushed back to your room, ready to throw yourself onto your thin bedroll and sob loudly. But when you pushed the door open, you saw your father sitting by the window. A grimace clouded his kind wrinkled features. He was holding onto his knee, spasms of pain wracking his body. 

You made him his tea before you got the salve for your hand. Your room felt even smaller that night, filled with your sadness and your father’s snores.

Change was creeping on you. It lurked around the corner, always out of sight. But you could feel it as surely as the seasons. 

The next day when you arrived in the Royal apartments, Azula had already left. Instead you found Zuko, bouncing his knee agitatedly as he leaned against his mother’s door. But when he saw you the sun of his smile broke through the grey expression. 

"Y/n.” He greeted you. “I was supposed to have tea with mother, but she’s busy.” He looked down at the floor, scuffing it with the tip of his shoe. “I think father’s been fighting with her." 

"I hope not, for his sake." 

Zuko smiled again at that. "Let’s go for a walk. The kikyou should be blossoming." 

He picked you a flower that day. The brightest one he could find, with the largest bloom. You had moved to stop him, but he was intent on it. He did not have a mind that could be changed easily. 

He turned to offer it to you, that goofy grin plastered across his face. You had been seeing it less and less, and it’s reappearance warmed your heart. 

"Lu Ten told me that girls like this sort of stuff.” He said timidly. This was new, Zuko acknowledging you as a girl. You didn’t mind it. 

“He’s right.” You laughed, accepting the blue blossom. You hadn’t seen the Crown Prince’s son in a while, either. He was busy with preparations, ready to join his father at the walls of Ba Sing Se. 

You tried not to think of the war too much. The smiling boy in front of you would one day be as old as Lu Ten, and he’d ship himself out too, desperate to prove his worth. Your father had barely avoided the conscription, and you thanked the Spirits for his bad leg every day, pain or not. 

You could help him with the pain. You couldn’t help him with the war. 

You held the flower reverently in your palm, stroking it’s soft azure petals. You opened your mouth to thank Zuko again, but his hand shot out to grab your wrist. You stared at him with bewilderment as he leaned close. His gold eyes narrowed as he stared at the red skin. 

“Y/n, did you burn yourself?” He asked as you pulled your hand away. 

“Y-yes. I was being stupid while helping father and my hand slipped.” You hated lying to him. You never could do it in a way that convinced him. 

“What happened?” HIs voice was low, and you could see his temper simmering. Of course he saw through you. 

You looked away. 

“It was Azula, wasn’t it? Did she hurt you with her bending, did sh-," 

"No. I did it to myself. I told you.” You pulled away from him. Zuko rushed around you, and you could feel the waves of anger flowing from him. 

“Y/n. Don’t lie to me. I don’t lie to you, it’s not fair.” He implored. He was right, annoyingly. This stopped you. You crossed your arms in front of you, mindful of the flower. 

“It was an accident. ” You mumbled and Zuko shook his head. 

“My sister doesn’t make accidents.” He took a moment to breathe, trying to collect himself. “Has she done this before?” You shook your head in response and Zuko turned sharply on his heel. 

“Zuko, where are you going?” You called after him, rushing to keep up. 

“I’m going to stop her from hurting you.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him back. He glared at you, face full of fire. He was indignant at your attempts to stop him from protecting you. 

“You can’t confront her, she’ll just get worse. You know she will. It’s not like you can tell your father, or the Fire Lord.” He stopped and you let go of his hand. “You know they won’t care. And you’ll just get in more trouble.” He sighed, and stomped his foot angrily. 

“Fine. But I’m telling mother, and you can’t stop me from doing that.” You relented and with a final look back at you, he ran off. 

You didn’t see any members of the royal family the rest of the day. A guard had dismissed you when you returned to Azula’s chambers. And the door to Ursa’s was locked tightly. Even Zuko seemed to have disappeared. 

You took the day to help your father. You flitted around the kitchen, under arms and over outstretched legs, helping him with the fetching of spices or ingredients. You enjoyed the kitchens. The constant hum of chatter, the jostling of bodies and the warmth of the large fires. You’d stare in open awe at your father as he created magic from simple vegetables and spices. It felt like a place detached from the palace, from the world.

That evening, the Royal family ate apart. You didn’t think that was a good sign. On the set of bowls that was being sent to Zuko’s room, you traced the image of a sword in soy sauce upon the rice. It wasn’t too well done, but hopefully he’d like it. If he recognized it. As you went to bed that night, you wondered if he even noticed. 

“My daughter won’t be needing your attending anymore, y/n.” Ursa’s voice rang in your ears as you stood in front of her. You felt like someone had pushed you from a window, as though you were falling. You’d come to the Princess’ bedchamber, earlier than the day before. Your eyes slid to the ajar door, and you could see her sitting by the vanity. Arms crossed, her gold eyes cutting into you through the mirror. Her and Zuko looked most alike when they were mad. 

“I apologise my lady, if I have offended the princess in some way,” you dropped to your knees, prostrating yourself. You tried to steady the trembles that wracked your body. You needed to apologise, to amend this, else you would lose it all.

“Child, there’s no need for that.” Ursa murmured. She shut the chamber door quickly and pulled you to your feet. “I do this for you. I love my daughter,” she took a breath, squeezing your shoulder. “But I’m not going to let her hurt you. I’m not going to allow you to hurt yourself out of some sense of duty.”

You shook your head, fighting the growing panic that threatened to shatter your world. If you weren’t her attendant, what would you be to her? How would you see Zuko? Ursa? “It’s not duty, it’s just… She’s the princess. She’s a child of the Fire Nation, chosen by the Spirit-" 

Ursa pulled you to her, hugging you tightly. You stiffened, the embrace unfamiliar. She smelled like cypress and summer. 

"She is. She is all that. And her mother was born in a tiny village that doesn’t even garner the respect of most map makers. Just like yours was.” She pressed her face against the top of your head. You tentatively put your arms around her, hugging her back. You had never been hugged like this before, the embrace of a mother. She pulled back, her thumb swiping tears from your cheek. You hadn’t realised you were crying. 

“When I found out your mother was here, I was overjoyed. ” At the mention of your mother you looked at her in shock. She had never spoken about her before. “You were nothing but a whisper in her belly, and soon I found out I was pregnant with Zuko.” Ursa smiled but her eyes looked far away. “Your parents’ helped me. I don’t think I would have adjusted to the palace if it wasn’t for them. Your father’s food, your mother’s companionship. She was my handmaiden/” She smoothed hair back from your forehead, and now you realised she was crying too. “You know, she was the one who first introduced me to lǎopó bǐng.”

Ursa had been friends with your mother. 

“I promised her I would watch out for you. I thought it would be easier if you were Azula’s handmaiden. But I underestimated my husband. And I overestimated myself.” She stood up, squeezing your shoulder again. The words brought nothing but confusion. 

“You’ll work in the kitchen, with your father now, okay? But you are still welcome here, any time. In fact, I insist you visit. Zuko would be devastated if you didn’t visit. We’ll find excuses, so Ozai doesn’t get suspicious.” You almost let out a cry of relief but you bit it back, nodding furiously before bowing again. She stopped your bow, holding you steady. 

“You look so much like her.” She whispered before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You were happy in your new duties. Happier than when you were with the Princess, but not as happy as when she was Azula. You only seemed to cross her mind if it was to upset her brother. So you kept out of her way, as painful as it was. 

Your biggest fear was that you would see Zuko even less. But he’d visit, whenever he could. If there was a day you didn’t come to him, he would find you in the kitchens. Soon he was as close to the servants as his mother was, and almost as kind. He’d perch on the counter as you cut vegetables, jumping down to help you the moment he could. You’d protest, but he’d insist. He’d help tend the fires, secretly. Your father would raise an eyebrow at him, but would soften when Zuko grinned. They’d sit together sometimes, without you. You enjoyed the sight of them, discussing whatever Zuko had on his mind that day. It made you happy that your father seemed fond of him. 

Sometimes he would get distracted while helping you, in ways you didn’t understand. He would be deftly slicing carrots as you spoke, and you’d laugh at a thought. The next moment the knife would be slipping into his finger, and you would rush for bandage and salve. He refused to go to the infirmary, preferring the way you’d wash the finger carefully and wrap it. 

“There.” you murmured, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his knuckle. That was how your father finished his treatments of your scrapes and cuts, and it came as second nature. But from the shock on Zuko’s face, you guessed it wasn’t something he was familiar with. “Oh, sorry. Just habit, my d-”

“No, no!” He cut you off, waving his hands. “Don’t apologise for that. I… Liked it.”

It was a small stretch of peace, those rose washed days. You were lulled into the security of routine and friendship. And that was when change struck, as it always does, when your guard was down and your chin was up. 

It all happened so fast, didn’t it?

The Crown Prince returned without his son. 

The Fire Lord died. 

Ozai took his place. 

Your friend became more of a prince than you could ever deny. It was him that would grow to the throne, your Zuko would be the one to lead after his father. 

And he became motherless, too. 

Ursa’s disappearance rocked you. The first night she was gone, Zuko’s food came back untouched. As did Azula’s. But Ozai…

Ozai ate well. 

You went to see your friend the next day. The servants had whispered that he refused to leave his bedchamber, after running around the palace in a flurry, screaming for his mother. The Princess’ had followed him, much the same. Ozai had stopped them in their tracks, cruelly scolding them for their childish reactions. For their impropriety. He had sent them to their bed chambers, and only called on Azula afterwards. 

So Zuko sat alone. You couldn’t bear that. 

“I don’t think the Prince will take visitors,” the guard murmured to you, his voice sympathetic. You shook your head, your resolve steely. Before he could deny you more, you called out. 

“Zuko. It’s me." 

A voice, filled with a sadness that should never belong to a child replied. "Let her in." 

You pushed through the door quickly, running until you reached him. You stopped, inches away, searching his face. His eyes were red and raw, and you could see the stain of tears on his cheeks. You both stood quiet, unsure what to say. He turned back to the window he had been staring out of. 

"I don’t care that she left. But why couldn’t I go with her?” His voice cracked with emotion and you threw your arms around him, hugging him desperately. 

“ It couldn’t have been a choice to leave you, she wouldn’t have chosen that. Ursa wouldn’t do that.” You insisted. His hand came up to touch your forearm, his body trembling slightly. 

“Maybe she was sick of me. Of us." 

"No.” You turned him around to grab him by the shoulders. “She could never get sick of you. Don’t you ever say that, Zuko she loved you. She would never want to leave you. No one would.”

He was crying freely now, and you felt at a loss. You knew there was nothing you could do or say to amend this loss, to fill this hole. 

You spent the rest of the evening sitting with him as he cried, and cursed the world. You’d bring him water, tea. Slipped him cookies between rants and screams. Your father had the mind to send up an array of temptation, worried by the Prince’s lack of appetite. 

And finally, when he had passed out from exhaustion, you called his attendants to help ready him for bed. You had felt numb when you entered his chamber. But looking at him now, his face pressed to the pillow, buried in a fitful sleep. You felt nothing but pain. You’d always fix each other’s hurt, but this was something that couldn’t be amended by any bandage. 

You tried though, you both did. Despite his pain, Zuko could see you were hurting too. You missed Ursa. She left without a goodbye, without even an acknowledgement. You had to tell yourself it wasn’t willingly. He let you grieve with him, letting the pain bond you. 

The next few years were strained. He had stepped reluctantly into the role of Crown Prince, but it called more of his father’s attention. And he needed that. At first he kept his trips to the kitchen, though less frequent. 

And then Azula found out. Zuko, afraid of Ozai’s fury at his fraternization and removing you (as he did his other distractions) stopped visiting. He was afraid Ozai would find the deceit Ursa had kept all those years. The kitchen felt less warm. 

But you found ways. A special bowl filled with one of your father’s village meals, tucked among Zuko’s other dishes. Your father poured his soul into making these recipes, and every night you’d share some with him. It comforted you to know that across the palace your friend was doing the same. 

At first you sent a bowl along to Azula as well. Once they started coming back untouched, you stopped. Soon she was dining with the Fire Lord every night. 

Every week, a note would be returned along with the Prince’s dishes. It would give you a time. You’d tuck it into your pocket, and find your way to the mulberry tree. He would be waiting for you, greeting you with a smile and a handful of berries. You’d share them as you sat and talked. Sometimes he’d bring along a book, one from Ursa’s library. Other times he’d pull off his formal armor and pull you up into the branches. 

You’d sit close together, hidden from view. There you could be quiet, your hands touching. Eyes closed. Enjoying the glow of the flickering sun finding you through the leaves. 

“When I become Fire Lord,” he began one day, and you tried not to wince at the thought. You couldn’t imagine him, grand and severe upon the throne. He had become more refined and formal these past years, but you had justified it as the loss of childhood. He was forced to grow up, but to grow into that? You would have shuddered at the thought if it wouldn’t have upset him. “I’m going to make you my Lady. I decided that the other day." 

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stop your laughter. "Why would you do that?” You giggled out and he shrugged, grinning. 

“I dunno, you’re nice. And if you were, I’d get to see you more often. We could even set up the courtyard so we could spar, because that used to be fun. I miss doing that.” He leaned forward, looking down at his dangling feet. Though it warmed your heart to know that your friend was under that crown, it hurt to know he ached for the same things you did. Things his father would never let him have. 

“And then I could help your father out, he’d be the father of the Fire Lady and wouldn’t need to work. And you wouldn’t either.” He looked down at the pastry you had made for the both of you to enjoy, a soft bun filled with red bean paste. “When you think about it, it would be like my father making my mother Fire Lady. You come from the same place, sort of. But you know the palace, you know me. Sure you don’t have Avatar blood,” he said the word with such flippancy. “But I’m sure you have someone great somewhere in your lineage. And either way, I’ll be Fire Lord. So, they can’t say no to me.” He leaned back, a proud smile on his face. He had it all worked out. 

“I like that.” You admitted and he seemed to sigh with relief. You wondered what type of Fire Lord he would be. 

You wondered if he would keep to his promise. Though his word was as strong as steel, there were years between then and now. 

“Whatever happens, I’m just glad I’m your friend, at least that’ll never change.” You murmured to him. He reached over to hold your hand in earnest now. 

“Me too." 

The next time he touched you, it was a shove. It landed you on the tiled floor where you stared up at his bandaged face in horror. 

He had never raised his voice at you outside of play, he had never directed anger towards you, he had been kind, your friend, your Zuko. 

You stared into his good eye, the other bandaged, and it looked unfamiliar. You looked for a flash of regret, of apology. All you saw was pure, unbridled anger. Behind him, the disgraced Iroh moved forward to pick you off the ground 

"Zuko, why would yo-," 

"Don’t touch her.” He seethed with rage, stepping closer to lean over you and blocking Iroh’s path. 

To your side, you could hear Azula giggle. 

“You think you can touch me? That I would take you with me? Why, so you can lounge around on my ship?" 

Who was this? This wasn’t Zuko. You had spoken to him just last week. He had greeted you with a flower, a red camellia. You were excited to see him again the following week. 

But then it happened. 

The horror of it rocked the palace so roughly you had expected it to shatter. The adults spoke solemnly, voices lowered and heads pressed together. Though the guards had been instructed to remove anyone who mentioned Ozai’s actions, they were lenient in their shock. 

He refused to see you since the meeting, since the Agni Kai, despite your insistence. This time, standing at his chamber door and calling for him rewarded you with nothing but silence. 

When you had heard it was his last day in the kingdom, that his banishment was true, you ran to him. There was no second thought, no hesitation. If he was leaving, as were you. 

The halls passed by in a blur, and you retraced the footsteps you had laid in childhood. As if you weren’t still a child, as if he wasn’t either. This time there was no prince pulling you by the hand. 

You had followed him around the palace, trusting him to take you where you needed to be. So you’d follow him now, away from the only home the both of you had ever known. Away from the place where your mothers had left you. You were ready to bow in front of your prince, to let him guide you into banishment. To stand by him. 

He stood in front of you now, looking like a stranger. 

"Z-zuko, I…” He hissed, and you saw his eye dart to Azula, leaning against a pillar with a bemused expression on her face. 

“Don’t speak my name. I don’t know what you got into your head these years, but forget it. I have no use for a peasant girl, I never have." 

"Enough.” Iroh’s voice was as sharp as a whip as he finally pulled you up, holding your shoulder tightly. You stared up at him in confusion. The last place you had expected comfort from was him. But you held onto his arm as though you were at sea, liable to be swept away and lost forever. 

When you met Zuko’s gaze again, you felt like you were drowning. 

“You’re dismissed, servant.” He scoffed as he turned around. 

Iroh walked you to the door quickly, and you looked over your shoulder at the boy who you had loved your whole life. He didn’t meet your eye, staring straight ahead. You pressed the shape of his jaw into your memory, the curve of his mouth. The colour of his eyes. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You wanted to break away, to scream at the prince. To slam your hands against his chest and demand an apology, to demand him back. But your throat was full of nothing but aching loneliness. 

Iroh knelt in front of you in the hallway, clutching your shoulders. You looked past him, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Y/n,” he called to you and you pulled yourself together for a moment. 

You hadn’t realised he knew your name. 

“My nephew doesn’t know what he’s saying. He is scared. A lot of things are happening to him right now. I cannot tell you why he’s being so cruel, I just ask that you realise his words are no reflection of you.” His voice was grave and you tried to internalize them. It was hard. 

“I know he loves you, in every letter he sent me, Every time I saw him, he spoke of you so highly. You’re his friend, his closest friend. But being associated with him is dangerous." 

"If he loves me why is he leaving me?” You asked and Iroh pulled you in, hugging you tightly. You buried your face in his shoulder, not caring who he was. 

“He doesn’t want to. But sometimes we must keep the ones we love the most the furthest away. To keep them safe.” His arms tightened around you. “It is a lesson we learn better young, but we don’t know what to do with. Zuko approached it harshly.”

He pulled away, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve and offering it to you. You held it loosely in your hand as you stared at the closed door. He was on the other side, you wondered if he was listening. 

“Will I ever see him again?” Your voice broke and you held your hand against your mouth. 

Iroh squeezed your shoulder. “I wish I could tell you. I hope one day, he can apologise to you in a way you deserve. But right now you take care of yourself, child. The palace is becoming a dangerous place.” You remained frozen, staring at the closed door. Iroh sighed as he turned away. He placed his hand on the door, pushing it open when you finally spoke. 

“He likes hare and bamboo. ” You whispered, and your voice sounded very small, and very far away. “And long gourd. And make sure he reads something other than maps. Else he gets slow again.” You swallowed past the sob in your throat. “He won’t listen when he starts to get sick. And rain makes him think of his mother. He gets sad when it rains. He’ll need a friend when it rains.” Your eyes met Iroh’s. “Please, take care of him." 

The old man nodded. "I will. I promise.” You looked through the gap in the door, and saw Zuko standing, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He stared at you, and you thought you could see tears in his eye. But then the door closed, and you were alone. 

You told your feet to take you to your room. But they lead you back to the mulberry tree. You knelt beside it, leaning your head against the trunk as you allowed the sobs to wrack your body. Slowly you pulled yourself to your feet, grabbing a branch and hoisting yourself up, up, up where the leaves could embrace you. You sat there till night fell, and mourned. 

You found yourself there, weekly. You don’t know who you were waiting for. But it hurt to be inside of the palace. It stung with reminders of happier days. You’d see the Princess, but she didn’t seem to see you. She left you more or less alone. You were careful not to give her reason to get upset. 

You didn’t have anyone to watch out for you, especially after your father left. 

“They need more soldiers. You can’t repeat this but…” Your father leaned down to kiss the side of your head and whisper into your ear. “The Fire Nation isn’t doing too well. With the Avatar back, things have been hard." 

Maybe the Fire Nation didn’t deserve to do well. You bit your tongue. You knew your father wasn’t the most staunch adherent, but people had been executed for kinder sentiments. 

But something inside you would be relieved to see the Avatar prevail. 

"But why do they need you? All you’ve used your bending for has been cooking for years! There’s a reason they didn’t take you the first time. And you’re older, and you haven’t trained and… Papa. You’re going to get hurt. ” You clung to him and he wrapped his arms around you. You cherished it, the familiarity of his beard against your forehead. How he smelt like warm spice and pastry. Your fingers tightened on his back.

How many people would you have to let go of? 

“Let me come with you. We can cut my hair, I’ll be a boy! I can’t bend but I can fight, I can tr-”

“No. There’s no way.” Your father pulled away from you, turning to stuff the remainder of his meager belongings into his pack. “You’re staying here. We have friends here, people who will take care of you while I’m gone. You have safety, y/n. Besides,” he turned to smile at you. It was soft, sad. “I’ll sleep better knowing that you’re here. Knowing that I’ll come back and find you in the kitchen, flour on your nose.” He reached over to squeeze your cheek. Usually you’d flinch away and slap his hand. But this time you pressed into his touch, staring back at him with an accusatory glare. 

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave you.” He choked out. 

“I know.” You whispered. “Nobody ever does.”

You threw yourself into your duties. They became your escape. Your only way to connect with the ghosts that wandered the halls. Each plate was an offering, a lament, a plea. 

You replaced your father soon as the head chef in everything but name. Old Kin was official, but he deferred to you. You liked it that way. More cooking. Less interaction with the Royal family, or what was left of it. It was a role you fell into bit by bit. You had watched your father’s hands so many times that it came like second nature. But you couldn’t bend the fire like he did, to a perfect sear or roast. 

The dishes never tasted right. But they were close enough. 

Your fellows stopped their gossip around you. Their chatter would turn to lighter subjects when you were within earshots. You felt like porcelain around them, and hated it. But you knew you were always on the verge of shattering. You didn’t want to hear about the prince or the war, or the “horrid” actions of the Avatar. You still chatted with them, constantly. Talking kept your mind off things. You could throw yourself into the latest break up, coo over drama with the nobles, tsk over the rising taxes. You were safe in conversations. 

Silence was for dinner. Every night you ate alone in your room, the one that felt too big now. You’d set a bowl across from you. It would go untouched, but you’d conjure images of whoever you missed the most that night. They’d keep you company as you ate. And then they’d disappear when you laid your head down

The only news you wanted to hear was that your father was on his way back, and had requested a bowl full of porridge to share his stories over. 

But instead they told you the prince had returned. 

The ladle dropped from your hand, falling into the broth. Before you could think you shoved your hand into the steaming liquid, fishing it out. You could barely feel the sting on your skin. 

Ai blinked at you before running to grab a bucket of ice water. 

“Put your hand in here quic- Spirits where is the salve? Child, get me the burn salve!” She shouted at a young girl who darted to the room where the servants kept their small share of medicine. Ai chided you, but you couldn’t process the young woman’s words. 

“Zuko. Zuko’s coming back?” You whispered hoarsely and her gold eyes flitted to your face. 

“Yes. That’s no excuse to hurt yourself. What, you think burning yourself will endear you to him? Make you a matching set?” You laughed weakly, surprising yourself. It was no wonder why you had become more endeared to Ai than any of the others. She was the closest thing you could bear to call a friend. 

The girl returned with the wooden container and you thanked her, letting Ai dry your hand and pat the thick cream on. You didn’t think you were actually burned. Thankfully. 

“When is he arriving? Why? Did he…” Your heart dropped. He must have done it. Oh, Zuko. You had resisted hearing the gossip that wandered about the halls about his journey. He was banished, then hunted, and now… He was coming back. 

He must have gotten the Avatar. You stilled a shaky breath, trying to stop the tears that came to yours eyes at the thought of the cycle being broken, truly now. It wasn’t right. 

“And the Prince Iroh is in jail now. Treason. But Zuko, he’ll be here by tomorrow afternoon, with the Princess. They managed to capture Ba Sing Se." 

You sat down on a nearby stool, hugging yourself. You thought back to the kind old man who comforted you. You couldn’t imagine him in jail. 

But that was the Dragon of the West. He had done heinous things in the name of the Nation, hadn’t he? Perhaps he could do it in defiance of his family as well. 

Zuko. Your mind turned back to him almost immediately. Tomorrow. You’d see him tomorrow, maybe. 

Could you bear that? You looked at your reflection in the bucket of water. 

Would you recognize him? You didn’t even know the boy who had left the palace. What did you expect to see in the youth that would return? 

Your friend. You hoped to see your friend. You hoped to see Ursa’s smile, and the heart that once sought solace and comfort for your father. 

With a deep breath you stood up. 

"Is there to be a celebration? A feast?" 

Ai shook her head, turning back to the cucumbers she had been cutting. 

"Not a big one, not yet. Just a good meal for the prince tomorrow, he’ll be dining with the Lord. It’ll be formal, but just the royal family.” You swallowed nervously. 

“Why wasn’t I told earlier? I have so much to prepare, a day is barely enough.” You hissed, rushing to your room to grab some scrap parchment and your quill. You’d need to organize, to write it down. 

“Kin doesn’t even know yet, we just found out.” Ai called to your receding back. You couldn’t dwell on that now. You had a ghost to feed. 

“Are you sure you want to serve? We have people for that y'know?” Kin’s gruff voice pulled you from your reverie. You looked down at the tray in your arms. You’d made sure to place Zuko’s favourites on yours. You had no clue why you were doing this, what you expected. 

You just knew you had to see him. To let him know you still stood strong. 

“I’m sure. I’m not actually serving, just placing anyway.” Kin raised a bushy eyebrow at you but didn’t persist. 

Within moments you were standing at the servant’s entrance to the dining chamber. Around you the women tittered with excitement, and you exchanged smiles with them. Everyone was excited to catch a glimpse of the prince. How historic, how monumental. 

How terrifying. 

With a nod of his head Kin beckoned you in. The Fire Lord had called for food, it was time to sate him. You swept in, moving gracefully along the floor with your eyes cast down. The chamber was empty besides Kin, two servers and the royal family. You could see Ozai, in the seat of honour. The sound of Azula’s voice told you she sat to his left. So the figure across her, with his back to you. That was Zuko. 

You quelled the shakes in your stomach as you approached him from behind. He was taller now, his shoulders broad. His hair was thick ebony, in a royal knot cut through with his crown. He was nodding to his sister as she spoke, her voice quiet amidst the sounds of clinking porcelain. She was the first to notice you, the flash of recognition in her eyes sending a chill down your spine. But she looked amused, looking back at her brother’s face. You stood beside him, slowly placing down each bowl.

His eyes were glued to his father at first, only murmuring a soft thank you to you. Your heart stopped at the sound. 

A thank you? Would the boy who called you a peasant really thank a faceless servant? Azula spoke again now and Zuko turned away from his father, and you finally caught sight of his face. The bowl slipped from your fingers slightly, clanging down louder on the table. Ozai didn’t seem to care, but Azula grinned. 

His scar was a bright red blossom that pulled his hairline back, with edges that cut through his skin like a flame. He turned to look at your hand, his narrowed gold eye taking in the steamed young bamboo with delicate strips of meat placed over it. 

Before he could look up at you you had moved to his other side, placing down another bowl. 

It broke your heart. You had to stop yourself from looking at Ozai with hatred, from throwing your tray at the man’s head. His son. His own son. 

But Zuko held his head proudly. In the face of his father, under the eyes of his sister, he sat strong. His shoulders squared and his chin high, he looked like the prince he had always been. But you saw as his index picked at the skin on his thumb. He was nervous. 

Zuko turned to look at you again as you hovered over his shoulder and you moved behind him quickly. You had been so sure. So ready to let him gaze upon you. Now you were shaken.

You wanted to flee, to turn back and disappear through the door. But you slowly sank to your knees with the other girls, bowing your head to rest on your hands. 

“We have prepared this feast with love and adoration in honour of the Prince and Princess’ success. We humbly hope you enjoy." 

"Please enjoy.” You chorused as one after him, and Zuko stiffened. Had he heard your voice? Could he even recognize it? 

The Fire Lord inclined his chin and you stood in unison. Before you could leave, Azula pointed at you. 

“You. Fill my cup, I need more tea." 

She kept her face neutral, but you had seen the glimmer of playfulness in her eyes. She had seen your hesitance, and was ready to toy with it. 

You bowed your head before taking the pot of tea from the attendant that stood near the door. You stepped closer, almost against Zuko’s back before moving along the length of the table. Your sleeve ran against the back of Zuko’s neck. 

You gave the Fire Lord more space as you circled around him, making your way to Azula’s side. Into Zuko’s line of sight. You couldn’t lift your eyes from the floor, lest you’d be accused of disrespect. Azula would pounce on it. But he was looking at you. 

You poured the tea carefully, quickly stopping the stream when she moved to snatch the cup from under it. Not a drop spilled. She looked disappointed. With another bow you sank back from the table to the side of the room. 

With your back safely against the wall you passed the tea pot back to one of the attendants. You could feel his eyes boring into you, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

With a deep inhale you raised your gaze. Your eyes trailed up his chest, his neck. You took in his lips, his mouth shaped into a small o. Then his eyes. Those damned eyes. 

He stared at you openly, looking stricken. His eyes scoured every inch of you like a starving man. He mouthed your name. You stared back at him, your gaze steadier than you thought it would be. You didn’t offer him a smile. 

He held his chopsticks loosely and followed you with his eyes as you made your way back around. His head turned with you, and you wanted to scold him. 

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost, brother.” Azula remarked. Before Ozai could see you, you stepped quickly through the door and slid it shut behind you. You leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. 

You walked blindly back to your quarters. You ignored the questions that peppered you, as well Ai’s touch on your shoulder. All you needed right now was your bed roll. 

You stumbled into your room and yanked the bedroll from the small cabinet. You collapsed onto it, hugging yourself with the thin blanket. Your head was a storm of sadness, of anger, of a childhood yearning. 

You remained like that for a long time, arms tight around your body. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“Y/n.” Ai spoke, her voice gentle. She slid the door open and you felt her approach you. 

“I didn’t want to show you this, because Spirits… He may be the prince, but he doesn’t deserve you. But it would be unfair to not let you know." 

She placed something in front of you. You waited until you heard the door slide closed before raising your head. An unassuming slip of paper. It was stained, as though it had leaned against something greasy. Of course. It had been in his bowl. 

A note from your prince. 

"I need to apologise. Please." 

You stepped into the moonlit garden and regretted immediately. You had no reason to doubt the sincerity, but a part of you felt it a trap. You expected to see his sneer, feel the slap of his words. 

He had come back to this kingdom of gold and fire as a hero. The palace was at his fingertips, he was working into his father’s praise. What use would he have for you? Did he not have everything he wanted? 

You made your way to the mulberry tree. You hadn’t seen it in a while. 

It stood alone, the moon light casting an ethereal tone on its soft green leaves. He hadn’t come. Of course he hadn’t come, what were you thinking? Before you could turn on your heel, a berry dropped from the leaves. It bounced on the ground, leaving a soft purple stain that looked like blood. You stepped closer and looked up. 

There he was, his eyes glinting like stars. His skin was pale silver, and his scar looked the colour of mulberries in the darkness. He had left his crown behind, and the midnight of his hair cascaded around his face as he looked at you. He looked wild in his beauty. 

He slipped to a lower branch and offered you his hand wordlessly. You stared at it, noticing the calluses on his fingers. You turned away, grabbing a nearby branch and hoisting yourself. It was a familiar feeling, testing the branches before trusting them. Feeling the leaves hit your face. You climbed higher than him and he followed you, keeping his distance. Though the tree was sturdy, you were no longer small enough to share the same branch. The realisation hurt. 

You leaned against the trunk, looking anywhere but him. 

But Zuko, he gazed at you openly. 

"I’m sorry.” He whispered after a moment and you hated the tears it pulled from you. How desperately you had wanted to hear those words. “for everything. For leaving you, for saying what I did when I left.” He leaned forward, his voice desperate and thick with emotion. 

“I hated myself. I still hate myself. Every night I see your face, the way you looked at me. As if I was a monster. But it was the only way I knew how to keep you from following me, from throwing your life away. And to stop my father or my sister from hurting, doing something to you. Azula…” He trailed off, tightening his hand to a fist. “She scared me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had done something to you. And I never would have forgiven myself." 

You leaned away from him slightly, your eyes shut. This is what you wanted to hear, wasn’t it? The words you dreamt of. They made your heart soar, but there was a sourness in your stomach you couldn’t identify. 

"That’s what Iroh said too.” You murmured. “But you went straight to insulting me, hey? Didn’t even bother to ask. Or to give me a goodbye.” Your nails dug into the bark. But you felt for him, for the boy he had been that day. Losing his family, his home. He knew you, to the core. Anything less and you would have insisted on exiling yourself with him.

But that was your choice. You should have been able to make it, no matter how painful. 

“There’s no excuse for that. I wasn’t thinking clearly I-,” Zuko gestured at his scar. “Was in the middle of a lot.” He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you again. 

“There wasn’t a moment I didn’t regret it. If I could have spoken to you without putting you in danger, I would have. I never wanted to leave you, y/n…” He whispered. You looked over at him and he was moving carefully, perching on a branch in front of you. He reached out to you shakily, his hand suspended centimetres away from your cheek. 

“You were my closest friend. My first, for a long time… My only.” He swallowed as you let him touch your skin. 

“I’ve loved you since we were kids." 

He spoke it out to the world like a prayer. The leaves rustled in response and the moon bathed you, as if asking you to look upon his face and see if he spoke the truth. 

There was nothing but sincerity in his lips when he leaned forward to kiss you. Zuko paused, allowing you to close the space.

You leaned into him, gripping him by the collar and pulling him into you. Your lips were a breath from meeting. 

He came forward, his arm coming around you an- you let out a soft yelp as you fell backwards, bringing Zuko with you. He managed to grab onto a branch, clinging to you and keeping you from slipping into the air. 

You’d forgotten where you were, precariously sitting in the canopy. He held you tightly and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest. When you looked at him, he was smiling. 

"Let’s get down, before we hurt ourselves.” He murmured and you nodded. He dropped down quicker than you. He was nimble, even more than before. He moved like liquid, slinking through the branches. What had he been up to that would train him to move like that? 

He had changed, very obviously. But hadn’t you as well? 

He caught you by the waist as you slipped down, softening your landing. Your hands went to his chest, steadying yourself. 

“I’m finally taller than you.” He said and you rolled your eyes, scoffing. 

“Not even. We’re eye to eye.” He leaned his forehead to yours, an unguarded smile on his face You felt a piece of your heart click back into place. The flowers around you felt brighter, raising their petals to the sky. As though life had been breathed into them. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you.” He murmured, closing his eyes. “You look so different." 

"Different how?” You asked, trying to contain your blush. 

“I’m used to you all scrappy. And now you’re… You’re beautiful.” You bit your lower lip, shaking your head slightly as you pulled away. You didn’t know how long it had been since you smiled so much. 

“So I wasn’t beautiful then, is what you’re saying?” You asked, slowly making your way over to the pond. He rushed to catch up with you. 

“No, I’m sorry I… You’re kidding. I see.” He sounded relieved and you laughed as you sat down on the soft grass, overlooking the still water. 

“You’re as oblivious as ever. But you’ve changed too.” You rested your chin on your knees as you regarded him. “I’m not sure how yet, but you have." 

He leaned his shoulder against yours as he watched the water. "Well, there’s this.” He touched the skin on his cheek, and you could see the shadow cross his face. 

“Not that. The way you hold yourself. The way you move. That’s different.” You tentatively placed your fingers over his and he pressed into your touch. “Just dunno why, I guess." 

He slid his fingers through yours, interlacing your hands palm to palm. "It’s hard to explain.” He murmured and you nodded. 

“Well, I guess we have time. Since you’re back…”

He leaned on his hands, looking up at the leaves that fluttered above your bodies. 

“Yeah. I’m back.”

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon after that first night. Or again the night after. Or every night since he returned. But it was true what they said about distance, to a degree you had never realised. You were fiercely fond of him now, and he couldn’t stand being apart. 

You were beginning to love him. Even this new him, that had spikes growing around his heart, who had taken knife to skin and hatred to chin. He charmed you in a reckless way despite his refinement.

He was still kind to his attendants, even more so than before. You could feel the comradery, the sincerity in his interactions. It warmed you. But you noted how it would disappear under the eye of his father.

You heard the whispers of how he acted in court. Silent, and when speaking fiercely supportive, offering his own experience as he had travelled these lands. He could attest to their strengths. To their weaknesses. He seemed determined to further the hold of his Nation. 

You couldn’t reconcile that with the Zuko that you wanted him to be.

A part of you, that you silenced desperately, questioned him. This soft spoken yet fiery young man. How he could kill the Avatar? You had heard the boy was only 12. A century frozen, but still. 12. 

You thought back to Zuko at twelve, staring at his profile as he sat next to you. You were sitting by the edge of the pond, watching as the water rippled the moon. 

He had been just a child then. You still were now. You don’t think he realized that anymore. He turned his gaze from the water to look back at you, arching an eyebrow. 

“Is there something you need? Are you cold?” He asked, reaching to pull you against him. You shook your head but thanked him. You leaned against him slightly, enjoying the feeling of him. Every moment alone with him was filled with soft touch. But he hadn’t tried to kiss you since the moment in the tree, and you didn’t know you felt about that. 

There were bigger things on your mind though. 

“So… Did you ask your father about mine? About bringing him back?" 

You felt the youth stiffen beside you. You had told him on the second night that your father had been drafted, and he had exploded with anger. Zuko vowed to help, immediately. He promised to petition his father, to go out in the world himself if need be. You finally felt heard. 

But he hadn’t said anything since. Day by day he seemed to be changing, again. His transition to the palace hadn’t been the smoothest, the resentment was still raw. You worried he was over compensating, throwing himself into the same nationalism that turned your stomach. 

But underneath all that, he was still your Zuko. Wasn’t he? 

"I did ask. He didn’t… Respond well. I’m not sure if now’s the best time.” You pulled away slightly to look better at his face. He had turned away from you, letting you stare at the tensing of his jaw. 

“What do you mean? When will be the best time?” You tried to keep the panic from your voice. He sounded guarded.

He turned back to you now, attempting to rub your arm comfortingly. 

“I’m not in the best place with my father. I can’t ask him for favours, especially something like this. Your father is just a cook, and as a bender he does have a duty to his nation. He’s fulfilling it right now, as he needs to be." 

You were quiet. Zuko hadn’t seen you in years. Zuko didn’t know how dangerous your silence was. So he continued. 

"Ozai said it would make no sense to bring him back. There haven’t been any reports of injury, I doubt he’s even seen action. Probably just making rounds of colonies or something.” Did he think that was a comfort? 

“ Even though we took Ba Sing Se, there’s still lots that need to be done. Father can’t afford calling everybody home. He said once he’s finished his purpose, he’d be happy to bring him back." 

Your first love sounded just like Ozai. 

"In a coffin." 

Zuko started, looking at your face in shock. "What? No, not like that y/n." 

"Then like what?” You were standing now in front of him, your hand wringing your skirt so your nails wouldn’t sink into your skin. “My father Zuko. That’s my dad. He can’t walk some days. What purpose does he have in this war, huh?” Zuko opened his mouth to reply and you cut him off. 

“To be cannon fodder. You’d sentence my father to death like that?” You met his gaze. Zuko stood up, his face twisted. 

You were angering him. Good. He deserved to be. 

“He is fulfilling his duty to his nation and bringing honour to his family. To you.” He said, his voice low. 

You let out a sardonic laugh and saw him flinch. “Honour? Honour in what? In terrorizing Earth Kingdom peasants? In killing children?" 

"The Fire Nation does n-” he stopped when he realised. His brow furrowed, and guilt flashed in his eyes. 

“Me. You mean me. And the Avatar." 

You turned away from him, staring into the water. "There is no honour in what we do to other people, Zuko. There’s no honour in how we mistreat them. I think we just do what we think we need to. I think we just fool ourselves." 

"I did what I had to do. To come back to my family, to regain my name. To come back to you. If I could have fooled myself, I would have chosen something easier. ” He whispered, and he was against your back. A firm hand on your shoulder. 

“If I could, I would bring your father back this instant. I’d get him myself. But my father would never allow it. We just have to take his word right now." 

"No.” You said it simply, as though you were commenting on the weather and not defying the man many believed as chosen by the Spirits. 

“Y/n, he’s the Fire Lord.” Zuko insisted. “My father, you can’t just not-”

“And he’s sent my dad marching off to an early grave.” You shrugged off his touch and turned to face him. “You did what you had to do. And soon some other poor idiot will do what he has to do to my father. And then someone will do what he has to do to him. And then this hundred years of war goes on for another century, and another. And we never find peace because people keep doing what they have to do.” The words spilled out of you like lava, scorching your tongue. “What happened, Zuko? The you I know would have helped, you loved my father. You’ve changed.”

"Of course. You think someone who went through what I had wouldn’t? You don’t know half of what I had to give up for my kingdom.” He snapped, his voice raising.

He grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you close. His other hand closed around your fingers and pulled them to his face, pressing them to his scar. 

“Look at this. This is what happens when we disobey him. ” Your fingers traced his skin. And his eyes fluttered closed, despite the burning rage. You understood, reluctantly. “I promise. I’ll get him back to you somehow. Alive. I’ll find his regiment, tell them to keep him safe. Maybe find him an easy job in Ba Sing Se.” He moved to press his forehead against yours and you pulled away. 

“No.” You said it simply, as though you were responding to an offer of tea, and not denying the one your heart had chosen. 

“I’m tired of waiting for people to come back. I understand, Zuko. You can’t bring him back without detriment to you. I won’t ask that of you. I’ll go find him myself.” It came so easily, the decision. You didn’t know why you hadn’t done this earlier.

He grabbed your hand. “No, you can’t. You don’t even know where he is, and-" 

"So tell me. Do you know? You can find out, can’t you?” You whispered and he looked away. 

“If I did you’d leave me. I didn’t come back just for you to leave me.” He whispered and you shook your head. 

“I need to do this Zuko. Please. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it alone. That’s fine. I’ve been by myself for years now. I don’t need your help.” You turned to leave and he reached to grab you again. You pulled your hand away before he could. 

“Y/n stop." His tone, it sent shivers down your spine. Spirits. He sounded like Ozai. 

You kept walking, your eyes locked onto the door. 

"As your prince, I command you to STOP.” He was almost shouting now, his voice thick with emotion. Desperation. You reached the doorway to the hall and put your hand on it, pausing for a moment.

That was the first command he had ever given you. 

“I used to see Ursa when I looked at you. It kept me from missing her. But now, seeing you now Zuko. It feels like she’s truly gone." 

You couldn’t look at his face. You couldn’t look at the hurt you had pressed on him. You moved quickly, but not before you heard a loud yell of anger, and the sound of a blaze. You took one last look over your shoulder, watching as his flame covered hand punched the trunk of your mulberry tree. It seared through the trunk, opening it like a wound. 

You ran before you could process it. You didn’t want the last image of your piece of heaven to be it up in flames. 

You ran through the palace as quick as you could, sliding into the kitchens. Ai was alone, and jumped when you burst into the room. She took one look at your face and made for the tea pot. 

"Sit. We just got some oolong in and-" 

"I can’t. Ai, I think I just banished myself from the palace." 

She looked at you in shock and it pulled a laugh from deep in your stomach. You grabbed onto the counter as tears made hot tracks down your cheeks. The force of your laughter and the weight of your sadness forced you to lean over, trying to catch your breath. 

"So I’m guessing there’s no time for tea?” She asked quietly. You shook your head, wiping your tears away.

“No. I don’t think so." 

"And I’m guessing you won’t be helping with the celebration? Zuko’s official welcome back” She crossed the kitchen to kneel beside you. You didn’t know when you ended up on the floor, your arms crossed over your stomach and sitting on your heels. 

“No. Tell Kin to forgive me.” You reached over to hug the older woman tightly. “You too. I have to leave, tonight." 

"No. You’ll get a good night’s sleep and leave first thing in the morning. In the meantime I’ll pack you all the best stuff. Might as well bleed whatever you can get out of this forsaken place." 

You choked out another laugh and she held you tighter. "By the Spirits, he’s driven you mad." 

You gave her a final squeeze, shakily standing up. You made your way to your room, barely having enough energy to pull your bedroll from its resting place and collapse upon it. You were convinced as you laid down that sleep would never come. That you would lay awake, your last night in the room you grew up in, and think of what you were leaving, of what you would find.. But you slipped into the black embrace the moment your head hit the pillow. 

You were awoken by someone desperately shaking your shoulders, pulling you from slumber violently. You gasped as your eyes opened, greeted by Ai’s wide smile. 

"Wake up sleepy head. Or have you gone back on that banishment?" 

You were lucid immediately, getting to your feet in the blink of an eye. "I’m up. I need to pack. I don’t have much but I ne-" 

"You don’t need to do anything. You were out like a light, I managed to get everything ready. Clothes, medicine.” You clutched her hand. 

“I don’t know how to thank you.” You whispered and she smiled. 

“Find your father. Go make a safe home, keep a guest room clean for me. That’s how you thank me." 

You hugged her tightly, and then noticed a figure standing in your doorway. It was a guard, one of Zuko’s personal men. Iha, you believed his name was. You hardened your gaze as Ai pulled away. 

"I hope you’re not here to bring me to the prince.” You said, your voice low. The man shook his head quickly, stepping forward. 

“No. Nothing like that. I heard what you were looking for.” He knelt beside you, pulling a scroll from his chest plate. “Here. Your father is here.” You took the scroll with shaky hands, opening it to find a map. On it was circled an out past, on the far edge of the Earth Kingdom. The scribbled notes were written in a familiar hand.

“H-how did you get this?” You whispered and Iha looked nervous. 

“I was in the room when the Prince asked the Fire Lord about your father. The Prince takes notes, it was just a matter of finding them. Your father’s regiment, it’s written here. If he’s not at the outpost, you just have to figure out where his regiment was reassigned." 

You clutched the scroll to your chest, staring at the man in awe. 

"You didn’t have to do this, if Zuko finds out…” Iha rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. 

“I don’t think he’ll notice. He um… Asked us to dispose of it this morning. Said he had no use for it anymore." 

That cut you. "I see. Either way, thank you.” You moved to the already full bag Ai had packed you. You placed it carefully inside before turning back and bowing to the man. He bowed back. 

“Take care. The world is a dangerous place.” You swallowed and nodded. It was true, but you couldn’t hide from it any longer. 

The rest of your goodbyes were more bitter than sweet. Kisses pressed to cheeks, promises to ensure that you ate and not to trust strangers. Messages to pass on to your father, or others taken away for the war if you were to come across them. You memorized each one, and swore you would deliver them when you could. 

With a final look back into the warm room that had made up your world till now, and the people who had loved you through it, you gathered your things and left. 

2 years later

You let out a noise of pride as you pulled the tray from it’s earthen oven.

“I swear, it’s magic what you do with the fire. I’ve never seen lǎopó bǐng so perfectly golden.” You called over your shoulder. Your father laughed from the front of the store. 

“Not magic, flower. Bending." 

You rolled your eyes as you placed the tray on the counter. "Whatever. It’s amazing either way.” You surveyed the plethora of baked goods currently in front of you, your wares for today. You’d been slowly making more and more, each day you felt like you sold out faster and faster. People really seemed to be springing back after the end of the war, albeit slowly. 

You heard the bell jingle, and your father called out a greeting to a morning regular, and a familiar face before that. It seemed that the small Earth Kingdom town that you had settled into by chance hosted a lot of ex military. It was peaceful, a mutual understanding settling like snow over its citizens. Though you knew your father got side eyes, people were kind. And as long as business went well, what were you to complain? 

You couldn’t blame their resentment, not really.

You sifted powdered sugar over the mulberry jam buns, humming softly to yourself. Now you’d bring them out, place them closest to the door. People would see them from the streets, the soft white mounds tempting and sweet. Your father would throw in a twist, upsell them a lǎopó bǐng perhaps. And you’d be in the back, making more.

It had taken you weeks to be okay with handling the mulberries. Your father insisted. 

“There’s a tree in our backyard, y/n. You can’t expect us to let all that fruit go to waste! I thought you loved mulberries.” He grumbled as you stared out the window. Your eyes traced the branches, the dots of the berries. All you could imagine was it up in flames. 

“I used to. When I was young." 

You don’t know why you had insisted on settling in this house. Sure, the storefront and kitchen was nice. And the apartment right above it. But you had seen the tree. You even chose the room that faced it. Maybe a part of you liked the reminder. 

You shook the reverie from your head and grabbed the tray, sweeping through the curtain to the front. Your father smiled at you from his stool, moving his cane to allow you to pass. You playfully bumped his back and he tsked at you. You began to arrange the buns on the platter, continuing your humming. The sunlight from the front window bathed you, and you exhaled at the warmth. It was a good day. 

The bell chimed again, and a figure crossed the threshold. 

"Welcome!” You called in a sing song voice, focused on arranging the round buns into a pyramid. To you it looked like a snowy mountain. “These are fresh, right out of the oven! Highly recommend.” What a liar, you hadn’t even tasted them. You couldn’t stand mulberry jam. “Also have coconut twists, and lǎopó bǐng, and oh!” You whirled around to face your father, who was strangely pale and quiet. “The anpan! I have to get that baked quick.” You hurried past him, disappearing into the back where you threw yourself into finishing the dough. 

Soft murmurs came from the front room, too quiet for you to hear. Your father didn’t sound as chipper as he usually did with customers, his tone subdued. You wondered what the conversation could possibly be about. You tried to remember the figure that had entered. It seemed to be a man, tall. Pale skin. You regretted not getting a better look at him 

Suddenly his voice raised. 

“Oh no, please! Stand up, there’s no reason for any of that. ” Your father’s tone was scolding, but the hitch in his voice told you he was holding back tears. 

In a second you were back at the door, alarm flooding your veins. You were greeted by the sight of your father, leaning over the counter and softly scolding the man who had entered earlier. The figure was now in a deep prostration, as though asking for forgiveness. With a start, you realised that was what he was doing. 

When the man looked up, you felt the floor disappear from under your feet. His gold eyes were focused on your father’s face, one narrowed with the wrinkling of red skin. 

“There is more reason than I can ever explain, sir. I’m just happy to see you alright.” His voice was deeper now. His face somehow sharper, his hair longer. The black silk of his hair was loose, falling to his shoulders.

You had never seen him wear the crown of the Fire Lord, but somehow you missed its presence. 

He noticed you after a breath. He was standing now, facing you. But still, as though you were a bird liable to flit away at the first moment. 

Your face was an impassive mask. You didn’t let him see how he shook you, you didn’t let him know how your heart seemed to tear itself, one half dropping to your feet and the other soaring. You simply turned back around and returned to your dough.

You kneaded it mechanically, unseeingly. You could not bear to exist right now, to acknowledge the apparition in your store front. That would require opening of your wounds, the shedding of your tears. You hadn’t cried since the night you left him. 

You heard the curtain twitch behind you, and Zuko stepped into the small kitchen. You were proud of your hands for not faltering, continuing to press the dough. Soon it would be as stiff as your spine felt. You’d bake the buns and they would crack the moment you touched them, crumbling to inedible pieces that you’d throw to the sparrows. But if you stopped moving you would think, and you couldn’t think of the man behind you lest you crumble yourself. 

When he spoke you almost doubled over, a flash of pain feeling like a knife in your heart. 

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but you deserve to hear it.” He spoke steadily. “I can leave you alone after that. You never have to hear from me again. But I can’t let the last thing I said to you be the last thing you ever hear from me." 

"What gives you the right?” You asked, your voice hoarse. You had stopped moving now and the thoughts were clamouring, refusing you any silence. “To come waltzing back into my life after all the pain you caused." 

"Nothing.” He answered. “Nothing at all. I just wanted to… Apologise…” He trailed off and you could hear him sigh, rubbing a hand against his face. You wonder what it felt like. You wondered why you cared. 

“I am sorry. There was no nobility in how I treated you. I was a coward. Y/n, I was the biggest coward to have ever lived. I should have been the one to bring your father home, I should have stood up to Ozai. There are a million things I should have done, but I was too scared to do. Too scared of losing this twisted sense of honour. I put it above people, above you. I couldn’t even give you the map myself, I couldn’t bear to see your face and let you go. To admit that you were going off because of me, because of my cowardice-” You whirled around, your heart skipping a beat.

“Iha said-" 

"That I asked him to throw it away. That’s what I told him. I had heard my guards mention you were leaving, I knew he would take it to you.”

“So you lied to me. ” Like he lied about killing the Avatar. Those were the only two lies he ever spoke to you. How suiting for him that they both turned out well. You didn’t like that. 

“Would you have accepted it if I gave it to you?” He asked, stepping forward. He was close, so achingly close to you. You could reach out and touch him.

“No. Yes. I don’t…” You leaned back against the counter, your elbow glancing against the small dish of salt. It fell swiftly into a bucket full of jam and you covered your face, groaning.” The jam. That’s ruined too.” Now you had to make more. You had to deal with this, and you had to make more jam. What else would the universe throw at you today?

You turned and grabbed a clean bucket. At least the smashing would help you work out the tension that was bubbling in you. 

"Can I help you?“ He asked. You should have said no, turned your back and walked away. He had made his apology to your father, he had made his apology to you. What other business could he have? 

"You’re the Fire Lord. Don’t you have more pressing issues than helping me pick mulberries?" 

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "I’ve taken a… Leave. There’s a few things I need to take care of. My uncle acts as Fire Lord for now." 

You opened your mouth to deny him but when you looked back into those gilded eyes, you felt like you were back in the palace kitchens. And he was a child. And you were a child. Sneaking away from his duties, perching on the counter top to just exist with you for a few extra moments. Stealing the knife to make things easier on you. 

No. Don’t think of him. Think of the war Lord’s son, think of the youth who helped take Ba Sing Se. 

But he was neither of those things, standing before you now. He didn’t have the same softness he did in childhood, no. But you had heard how he amended his sins. An ally of the Avatar, an ally of the balance. 

Someone different than the boy who had left you, and the boy you had left. He had found you as a stranger with a familiar face. But more promising than the last time. 

"Fine. You can hold the bucket." 

He followed you out the backdoor and you walked swiftly in front of him. You were up in the sturdy branches before he had even reached the trunk. He stood at the bottom as you tossed berry after berry down haphazardly, moving to catch them. You watched as he concentrated, ensuring nothing hit the ground. 

"The tree at the palace still grows beautifully.” He called up to you, and you froze. 

“I thought you burned it. I saw you burn it.” You replied bleakly and he looked down. His shame was evident.

“I did. Almost did. Damaged the trunk badly. Not enough to kill it though. I had to work to save it, and I visited it every day until I left to find Aang. I still do now.” He admitted. You leaned over a branch to stare at him, searching his face. 

When he raised his eyes to meet yours, he looked at you with a soft adoration. You wondered if this was how the moon felt, looking down at the people who stood in her glory. Who worshipped every ray. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You said, turning to grab a handful of berries and throwing them down harder than you meant to. Zuko winced as one glanced off his forehead, the rest falling into his bucket. 

“Like what?" 

You leaned against the trunk, holding onto it for support. 

"Like you still love me.” A tear fell down with the next berry you tossed.

You heard him place the bucket down and slowly begin his ascent. Soon he was level with you, on another branch. 

“Still? Y/n… I never stopped.” He whispered, his voice mixing with the rustle of the leaves. “It’s been you. It’s always been you. From when I first learned what love could be, to every morning. I wake knowing you hate me, but I still… I still love you. That’s one of the only parts of me that has never changed.”

You had felt a lot of things about him. But you didn’t think you ever hated him. 

"I realised I wasn’t someone you could love, the me back then. You were right about so much, but I was too caught up in myself to listen. I ignored a lot of good people. But I try to be that someone now, the one we all needed. It may not be much, but y/n… if you can ever accept me, as your friend, however you’ll have me, I will be the best one you could ever ask for. I will work to rebuild what we lost." 

You were silent and you could hear him shift. 

"I understand. You don’t need to respond right now. But if you ever want to, there won’t ever be a moment when it’s too late. " 

He had leaned forward, looking down to find a place to put his foot. He was about to leave.

Before you realised what you were doing, you had cupped his cheek and closed the distance. 

Hidden in the canopy, you kissed the youth you had always loved. He reciprocated with ferocity, with such desperation. As though he had been breathless until you, as though you would disappear once the kiss broke. 

But you pressed your forehead to his, staring at the amber pools of his eyes. 

"This isn’t forgiveness. But this is a chance at it.” You whispered, and he nodded, holding onto your wrist as you pressed your hand to his cheek. You pulled away quickly and made your way down the tree. He was right behind you and when he dropped to the ground, you stepped close to him. You were happy to see you were still eye to eye. 

“You are not my Lord. You’re not going to command me, in any way.” You stated and he nodded. 

“I’m ashamed I ever tried to. I’m sorry." 

"No lies between us. Like before.” He nodded earnestly, holding back a smile. 

“None at all." 

"You’ll never leave me." 

"Never.” He whispered reverently. 

You bit your lip. 

“I still need to think about it. It’s all too heady right now. I can’t even believe you’re here. I can’t think straight.” You expected to see him deflate, or a flicker of anger cross his face. But there was nothing but hope. 

“I can wait forever. " 

You laughed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I wouldn’t make you." 

Zuko reached out tentatively and when you nodded he embraced you, clutching you to him. You clung back, pressing your face against his neck. He breathed deeply, and you could feel his body glow with warmth against yours. 

You held him, felt the the press of his face against your head. His hot breath, the pounding of his heart. 

You could let him in, one last time.


End file.
